Be a Mech
by Nicor Warg-Fyrweorm
Summary: It all started with a prank, but the Cybertronian are a species created to adapt. So, it shouldn't have surprised anyone to see giant alien robots singing and, ocasionally, dancing around. Even on the battlefield. Now, the real question is: If music tames the beast, what does this new adaptation mean when it comes to their endless war?
1. I'll Make a Mech out of You

**AN:** While reading this (especially the parts in bold, you'll see when you get to them), listen to _I'll Make a Man Out of You_ from the movie _Mulan_.

* * *

"Hey, you, Seeker!"

Bored out of his processor, Skywarp turns around, only to do a double take when he sees Motormaster stomping to him, looking far too focused for the Flier's own good.

"Whatever it was I didn't do it!" he hurries to reassure, lifting his servos in front of his faceplate and preparing himself to teleport to the safety of his room if the Grounder threatens to punch him.

"Stop that," the larger mech snaps, more annoyed than murderous, and, curious, the purple and black one obeys, lowering his arms.

And then, the Stunticon looks up and down the corridor to make sure they're alone before leaning closer to the startled Flier.

"You're one of Lord Megatron's most loyal and trustworthy, aren't you?" the Grounder whispers, sounding both suspicious and hopeful, and, for almost a full klik, Skywarp can just gawk.

Until, of course, the words _finally_ are deciphered, upon which he adopts an expression of rage and indignation worthy of his Trine leader, stepping closer to the larger mech with a menacing snarl that makes Motormaster straighten with a jerk.

"You dare doubt my loyalties _and_ my competence, you inferior _Grounder_?!" he shrieks, and some tiny part of his processor remarks that he sounded a lot like Screamer.

"No, no! I was asking counsel!"

And, for the second time in barely five kliks, Skywarp is stunned into silence.

The Stunticon uses the chance to put himself together, lowering the arms he had lifted to shield himself from a possible attack and trying to wipe the nervousness from his faceplate.

"Counsel," the Seeker repeats, processor slowly renewing its activity, "from _me_?"

"Lord Megatron trusts you and tasks you with important jobs, but us—me and my team—we're just good for merging into Menasor, and even then he doesn't trust us. I've tried to straighten the others, to make them better so that we can be better in Lord Megatron's optics and get a chance to truly help, but it's no use! How did you do it?" Motormaster rants, sounding like the newspark the other Decepticons sometimes forget he is, and ending the tiny speech with pleading optics glued to the stunned Flier.

Slowly, Skywarp smirks.

"I know of a training method that is _just_ what you need."

* * *

When Motormaster asks for a week off to train his team, the whole bridge falls silent.

The argument between Starscream and Megatron is immediately forgotten, and even Soundwave turns away from the computer to stare at the Stunticon.

After a moment, however, the Decepticon leader agrees.

As soon as the Cargo is out of the room, he whirls on his Communications Officer and orders the Gestalt monitored at all times.

Before Soundwave can agree with his customary 'as you command', Skywarp volunteers himself for the surveillance, and all noise in the command center stops yet again.

He makes sure not to look too innocent or mischievous, but it still takes him insulting himself by stating just how bad his stalking skills are and how much the practice is needed, for Megatron to agree.

Though Laserbeak is coming either way, to record and monitor them all.

A bit annoyed, but more than willing to have a copy of the next week, the purple and black Seeker agrees and takes off.

Once Astrotrain leaves to return to the _Victory_, the Stunticons arrange themselves in a line in front of their leader, who is looking really serious and making them clearly uncomfortable.

After a bit of convincing—translated as grabbing the Cassette without previous warning—Skywarp teleports to a nearby cliff to have a closer view of the events.

The valley is filled with spindly trees, an open prairie and a lake peppered with rocks, all of it isolated by large mountains.

Perfect for their week long _special_ training.

Laserbeak just needs a look up at the Seeker's grin to stay silent and start recording the Gestalt.

"I asked for this week for us to undergo special training, tailored to turn even the most worthless scum—" explains Motormaster, who has started pacing, as he glares at his teammates, "—into the most competent warriors. And I will _not_ accept failure."

"Ugh. Come on, Boss, training? I don't need training, I'm the best!" Drag Strip protests, and finds an enraged white faceplate almost against his as his leader whirls on him, making him jump away with a yelp.

"No. Protesting!"

"Why lose time with this? We're all going to get deactivated anyway," Dead End grumbles, staring moodily at the grass under his pedes and ignoring Motormaster's glare.

"You mean there are Autobots here? Are we surrounded?!" Breakdown screeches, grabbing onto Wildrider as he frantically stares around, his brother trying to shake him off with a scowl.

"_Enough_!" the largest mech roars, and they all get back in position with startled jerks and yelps.

To their utter confusion, though, Motormaster doesn't start punching or shouting, but, instead, turns to the nearby trees and starts plucking them as if they're mere blades of grass, snapping off the roots and the biggest branches.

Skywarp's grin widens, expectation almost making him fidget where he's lying on his cockpit at the border of the cliff, and Laserbeak strains his neck as if that would allow him to better see whatever is going to happen despite already having a clear view.

Before any of the Stunticons has a chance to ask, their leader turns around and throws them the trees-turned-staffs.

And the four mechs yelp and cover their helms with their arms, letting the sticks slam into them and fall to the ground.

"We've got a long way the go," Motormaster groans, one tree still in his servos, as his teammates slowly look at him as if he's gone mad.

When they see he's still holding one of the staffs, they slowly bend down to retrieve one each, exchanging confused looks as to what could be so important about some branch- and root-less trees.

"**Let's get down to business. To defeat the Bots,**" Motormaster _sings_ doing some flourishes and hits with his stick, and the rest of Stunticons and Laserbeak's lower jaw almost literally fall to the ground in bewilderment.

Skywarp barely manages to cover his mouth with his servos to muffle his laughter, optics glinting with glee.

When the rest of his Gestalt just stand there, flabbergasted, their leader growls and pushes his staff forward while still clenched in his fists, as if in an offering, and, clumsily, awkwardly, and hitting each other until they separate enough not to, the others mimic him.

"**Did they send me humans, when I asked for Cons?**" the black mech snarls, and the rest quickly straighten into slightly more dignified and somehow ready positions, but still looking completely gobsmacked and awkward.

Motormaster puts his stick down, resuming pacing in front of his teammates once more, but the smaller mechs don't move a micron under his heated glare.

"**You're the saddest bunch I've ever met. But you can bet, before we're through…**" he trails off before, so suddenly that the other Stunticons jerk back in surprise, he whirls around to fully face them. "**Newspark, I'll make a mech out of you.**"

"Newspark? But you were created at the same time as—" Wildrider protests indignantly, but is cut by a sweep from his leader's staff at his legs that sends him on his back with a breathless grunt.

"If you've got to say anything this week, you'll do it singing!"

"But—"

"No buts! Let's start!"

And shooting practice begins, with some bull's-eye carved on a mostly flat rock face of the valley with an Energon knife.

'Pathetic' is an understatement.

But, even though Motormaster is as bad as the rest of them, he's still acting the part of strict instructor, much to Skywarp's and Laserbeak's amusement, because he's still _singing_.

"**Tranquil as a mountain, but on fire within.**"

And they move to throwing stones to each other for the 'attacked' to bat away with their stick as evasion and deflection practice… only, the Stunticons are too busy looking for pebbles to _start_ the practice, to their leader's growing anger.

"**Once you find your weapon, you are sure to win.**"

And the singing continues as they try to catch fish with their bare servos, some kind of bizarre reflexes and speed training.

"**You're a strut-less, weak, pathetic lot, and you haven't got a clue. Somehow I'll make a mech out of you.**"

The days that follow are repetitions of the first, plus rock-breaking with their bare fists—and Motormaster makes sure to find some sturdy enough to have his teammates yelp in pain as they strike them—, the common sparring, and hopping from rock to rock in the lake—complete with shrieks and large splashes as the mechs slip and end in the cold water coming from the melting snow on the mountaintops.

The best, however, is how well the Stunticons adjust… to the singing part.

"**I'm never gonna stop my fans,**" Dead End moans, still running around the valley in an endurance exercise.

"**Say goodbye to those who knew me,**" Wildrider whimpers as it's his turn to be peppered with stones.

"**Mech, was I a fool for refusing to train,**" Drag Strip groans as he gets out of the lake, water and weeds dripping off of him.

Though it's not just the Stunticons who have apparently adapted to this new habit.

"**This mech's got 'em scared to death,**" Skywarp whispers to Laserbeak when Dead End is punched out of the sparring ring and the others cringe as they realize it's another's turn.

"**Hope he can just see right through me,**" Breakdown pleads, only to have his leader's optics land on him in a silent order to get ready to fight him next.

"**Now I really wish that I knew how to drift!**" Dead End shouts as the alt mode chase goes on, just before the truck rams him when his efforts to turn sharply to escape fail.

The best part, however, is the nightly routine of running through Martial Art stances, mostly because of the chanting that comes with it, with the Stunticons, minus Motormaster, beginning and repeating the same motto while their leader recites the 'requirements' almost religiously.

"**To be a mech.**"

"**We must be swift as a flying Seeker.**"

"**Be a mech.**"

"**With all the force of Megatron's gun.**"

"**To be a mech.**"

"**With all the strength of a wild Combiner, mysterious as what Shockwave does for fun!**"

The first time they hear it, Skywarp has to teleport him and Laserbeak almost a hundred miles away so that their raucous laughter goes unheard.

But the days go by, and the routine doesn't change, until, the fifth day, Motormaster snaps, once more pacing in front of his somewhat at attention teammates.

"**Time is racing toward us, till we lift the veil. Heed my every order, and you might prevail,**" he snarls, before stopping and turning to face them fully. "**You're created for the rage of war, so get up, there's more to do. I can still make a mech out of you.**"

And, to the observers' astonishment, something changes.

The Stunticons straighten, turn serious and determined, gazes blazing, and, when they resume their training, they actually improve _exponentially_.

And when they chant, all voices speak in unison, strong and firm and reverberating through the valley.

"**To be a mech, we must be swift as a flying Seeker! Be a mech, with all the force of Megatron's gun! To be a mech, with all the strength of a wild Combiner, mysterious as what Shockwave does for fun!**"

And, the last night, they _ace_ their exercises, all the while keeping with their singing without need to shout to be heard over their spinning fans.

"**To be a mech, we must be swift as a flying Seeker. Be a mech, with all the force of Megatron's gun! To be a mech, with all the strength of a wild Combiner, mysterious as what Shockwave does for fun!**"

* * *

Skywarp is strangely silent when he gets to the bridge, and Laserbeak looks, for lack of a better word, shocked.

Before the gunmetal gray mech can ask, though, Motormaster enters the room, standing tall and strong, with the other Stunticons filing in after him… before they stop and, like a well-oiled machine, turn in unison to stand at attention in front of Megatron.

"Sir, I proudly report that our training was successful."

And, meeting Breakdown's optics when before the mech would be nervously staring at the floor, and seeing the determination and fire in Dead End's gaze, and hearing not a boast or idiotic comment from Drag Strip and Wildrider, the Decepticon leader can only nod in agreement, impressed despite himself.

When the Stunticons, still in that new orderly fashion, leave the bridge after they're dismissed, all optics turn to an almost catatonic Skywarp.

"What happened out there?" Megatron asks, gesturing to the door the Gestalt has just left through.

"I've created a monster," the Seeker whimpers, and a poke from his Trine leader is all he needs to keep talking, as well as start shivering. "I-I swear it was a joke, he asked me how to get his team good enough to deserve Lord Megatron's trust and be given important assignments, and I was bored and thought it would be funny so I told him about that training method but I never thought it would work!"

Silence.

"What, exactly, did that training entail?" Megatron asks with a growing dark smirk, and all the mechs in the room shudder in horror.

* * *

**UPDATED 27/02/2017:** Corrected Grammar.

* * *

**AN:** I did it! I wrote a one shot! I _can_ write one shots *wipes a tear of joy* I'm so happy.

Inspired, of course, by the song _I'll Make a Man out of You_ from the movie _Mulan_, but also by one of those 100 themes prompt (that I can't seem to find now) and a randomizer that gave me the combination _Motormaster: Be a Man_.

Have fun!

**Update:** This fic will now be a multi-chapter, because, obviously, I can't write one shots. Slag me.


	2. Be Prepared

**AN:** This chapter's song is _Be Prepared_, from the movie _The Lion King_. For the full effect, listen to the CD version of it.

* * *

The opening of the new Autobot Park, as embarrassing as it is for said mechs to have such a place named after them, goes well.

Too well, almost.

But, then again, what interest could the Decepticons have on disturbing that?

So, taking small mercies as they come, Optimus doesn't complain when it's time for the convoy to make their way back.

And, of course, that's when things go downhill.

::Prime, Blaster here. I have some news you're not going to like.::

::What is it?::

::The sky spy has detected Decepticon activity about five miles north of your position. It seems some kind of… secret meeting.::

Well, _that_ is strange.

Nevertheless, Optimus adjusts their course and sends a message to the mechs with him to be alert.

::Why would you say that?::

::We thought it was a patrol at first, since the area isn't that far off their usual routes, and because the sky spy detected just a couple signals, but more have been joining since then. Should we worry?::

::We're on our way. Stand by, and let us know if there is anything else out of place.::

::Will do, Prime. Blaster out.::

So, as the connection closes, and judging the distance in the darkening light of late twilight, Optimus reduces speed and transforms.

And sees a slightly hill-splattered area that has the perfect elevations of terrain to hide activity from the nearby rarely used road.

In complete silence, and after one look at Hound to get a hologram of the desolated terrain covering them, the Autobots advance.

They first hear the voices a couple of hills away, but the rocky elevations make it a bit harder to finally pinpoint the Decepticons' location.

Splitting up would be the right thing to do, especially after seeing it is the Seekers there, but, despite the moonless night dawning on them, Optimus doesn't dare risk them be discovered due to the lack of Hound's holographic projection. So, they assemble around their chosen hill, some lying down, some kneeling, and observe.

The Coneheads are sitting on some rocks out to one side, conversing quietly, while Thundercracker is moodily staring at the skies with his arms crossed against his chest, and Skywarp is tricking moths with a welding torch.

No sign of Starscream.

Until, of course, they hear the humming of turbines from above.

Still hidden in Hound's hologram, the Autobots nevertheless tense.

But it seems it is their lucky day, because, with the scout's trick and the creeping darkness, the Decepticon Air Commander doesn't notice their audience as he transforms and regally lands in front of the rest of assembled Fliers.

Optimus observes with confusion that they all seem curious and expectant as they wait for their Second in Command to stop looking around in uncharacteristic paranoia.

After all, Starscream isn't one to care whether his plans for grandeur are overheard or not.

"So? Why are we here?" Ramjet finally asks with a soft growl, patience wearing thin.

The lead Seeker, however, doesn't answer, staring up at the sky for a moment before crossing his servos at his back and start a slow pacing in front of the other Fliers, optics lost in the middle distance.

"I never thought Grounders essential. They're crude and _unspeakably_ plain," Starscream muses, almost as if talking to himself, dark faceplate twisting in a tiny disgusted sneer. "Not even the tiniest glimmer of potential. They are just a lost era's remain," he finishes with a hiss, optics darkening menacingly as he stops his pacing.

As the rest of Seekers exchange confused looks, Optimus feels his plating crawl with… nervousness?

"Yeah, sure. What's your point, Screamer?" Skywarp asks, and his Trine leader whirls around with an almost depreciating look, but with his optics once more focused and burning against his dark helm and faceplate.

"**I know that your powers of retention are as wet as a walrus' hide. But thick as you are, pay attention! My words are a matter of pride.**"

And Optimus' mouth falls open, because Starscream doesn't have the voice for such an act, but the modulation and lilting cadence make it obvious that, in his own way, he's _singing_.

The rest of Fliers, instead of looking as startled as their unknown observers, look even more confused if such can be, obviously more attentive to the words than the singing, like the Autobots were.

"**It's clear from your vacant expressions that the lights are not all on upstairs,**" the Air Commander continues with a tired tone, walking past his mechs once more.

"We don't have lights on our helms," Ramjet whispers to Thrust, who shrugs in answer.

"**But we're talking lords and successions. Even ****_you_**** can't be caught unawares!**" the Second in Command continues as if he hadn't heard the Coneheads, despite being obvious he has, as he whirls around on them with a snarl that makes them stiffen. "**So prepare for the chance of your function. Be prepared for sensational news. A shining new era is now soaring nearer…**"

"And where do we feature?" Thundercracker asks, distrustful and obviously wary of whatever his Trine leader is planning now.

"**Just listen to teacher,**" the white and red Seeker answers with a purr and an almost proud smirk. "**I know it sounds sordid, but you'll be rewarded when at last I have taken my dues and injustice deliciously squared… Be prepared!**" he crows, lifting a servo to clench it in front of his faceplate with a large smirk.

"Yeah, be prepared!" Skywarp chirps excitedly, bouncing out of the line the rest of Fliers are forming, with a wicked smile and a mischievous glint of his optics. "We'll be prepared…" he adds before his words trail off as confusion wipes every other emotion from his faceplate, turning to his Trine leader, "for what?"

"For the death of the Lord," Starscream answers calmly, not even bothering to turn around.

Optimus feels himself relaxing despite the previous oddities. Looks like it's all another _I will deactivate Megatron and be leader of the Decepticons_ plan destined to fail.

"Why, is he sick?" Thrust asks, looking at his fellow Coneheads.

"No, fool, we're gonna kill him," Starscream responds calmly, and Prime tenses again, because he's used the plural this time. "And Shockwave too."

_That_ is new, and scary, because the voice has been a menacing purr as the lead Seeker's faceplate twists in dark delight at his plans.

"Great idea! Who needs a Lord?" Ramjet exclaims, smiling widely, and the rest of Fliers perk up at that.

"No Lord, no Lord, la la-la la-la-la!" they chant, minus Thundercracker, who is too dignified for that, and they don't sound entirely mocking.

"Idiots!" Starscream barks, finally turning around to snarl at them. "There will be a Lord!"

"Hey, but you said—"

"_I_ will be Lord!" the Air Commander cuts Dirge, who seems more taken aback at the words than the fact he's been interrupted, before the white and red mech smiles again as he straightens. "Stay with me and you will never be chained again!"

And _that_ sends the Fliers into excited bouncing and chirping and hopeful and eager smiles.

"Yay! Alright!" they cry, exchanging sharp grins as they shift restlessly, impatiently, like a murder of crows as they watch an injured animal stumble below the branches they're perched on.

The comparison makes Optimus shudder uncomfortably, but the soft tingling of his armor gets droned by a booming cry.

_Thundercracker_'s booming cry, as he thrusts up a fist with a large smile and bright optics.

"Long live the Lord!"

"Long live the Lord, long live the Lord!" the rest immediately join in, fists up as Starscream basks in their excitement and adoration.

And then, to the uncomfortable and slightly worried Autobots' confusion, all Fliers minus the Air Commander lean forward in a semicircle around the lead Seeker and start to make some short 'ee-ee-ee' sounds—before throwing their arms up again in _joy_ and start to _sing_.

"**It's great that we'll soon be connected with a Lord who'll be all-time adored!**"

"**Of course, quid pro quo, you're expected—**" Starscream cuts, attracting the expectant gazes of the rest of Fliers, "**—to take certain duties on board,**" he finishes as he starts to walk again, the others parting to let him through. "**The future is littered with prizes. And though you could try to get free, the point that I must emphasize is…**" he continues, voice softening, before, faster than they can follow, he rounds on the eager Seekers again, one clawed servo curling almost too close to Skywarp's faceplate before the black and purple mech teleports behind Thundercracker, "**you won't stay unchained without me!**"

Instead of flying away or at least snapping out of their crazed states, the rest of Decepticons bounce around some more with those 'ee-ee-ee' sounds, like an excited puppy's yipping.

Starscream's smirk widens, his optics brightening, and he opens his arms wide, enveloping the others with the gesture as they move to form a circle around him.

"**So prepare for a coup that'll make history. Be prepared for the bluest of skies!**"

The other Seeker's 'ooh'-ing of anticipation cuts as they exchange sharp triumphant grins and open their arms in a mimicry of their leader, turbines igniting to slowly lift them off the ground.

"**La-la-la!**"

And Starscream engages his own turbines too, lifting slower than the others but soon catching up with them and surpassing them.

"**Meticulous planning—**" he crows, his triumphant smile far more dangerous when the starlight doesn't manage to get rid of the red glow of his too bright optics.

"**We'll be free!**" the others choir, turning slowly around their leader as they keep ascending.

"**Tenacity spanning—**"

"**Really free!**"

"**A life of denial—**"

"**We repeat—**"

"**Is simply why I'll—**"

"**Really free!**"

"**Be Lord undisputed, respected, saluted, and lead you to take our prize!**"

And the ascending stops, with Starscream still higher than the others as he throws his clawed servos up as if to grab all of the firmament when he clenches them into fists high over his helm.

"**Yes, my claws and ambitions are bared! Be prepared!**"

And the other Seekers mimic his gesture as they all, for the first time, sing in unison.

"**Yes, our claws and ambitions are bared! Be prepared!**"

With laughter heralding dark odds, the Fliers transform and, in a 'V' formation behind the Air Commander, speed away towards the _Victory_.

It takes a long time for the Autobots to move, all of them frozen with dread, fear and maybe a little horror.

"The Fliers are planning on deactivating _all_ Grounders?" Hound asks softly, as if there were still enemies around that could overhear them, as they slowly stand up, not paying attention to the dirt covering their torsos and legs and arms.

"They're going to turn against Megatron and then blow us all sky high, aren't they?" Bumblebee whispers, looking up at his leader in mute hope that he's wrong.

"And they're _all_ in on this, maybe even those back on Cybertron. Well, minus the Triple Changers and Soundwave's Cassettes, but what can _they_ do against _Seekers_?" Wheeljack adds, shuddering visibly, as the rest try not to think about it.

There's a reason the Decepticons have managed to all but force the Autobots off Cybertron, and it isn't because of their tactics and strength—both factions are, more or less, equal in those regards, and, in those they aren't, they make up by other means—but their Aerial supremacy.

The Armada is Megatron's strength, but, apparently, the warlord has kept his winged spark-extinguishers locked up for far too long, and his best ace is about to turn against him for the last time.

No one doubts that, with the rest of Fliers behind him, Starscream will succeed this time in deactivating his leader.

And when—not if—he does, the Autobots will be next, and maybe even Earth afterwards.

"**Yes, our claws and ambitions are bared… be prepared…**"

"_Jazz_!"

"What? It's catchy."

* * *

"So, how did the plan go?" Megatron asks as his Second, looking rightfully smug, enters the bridge.

"We covered the area with the Cybervenom-charged nanites and managed to distract the Autobots long enough that each and all of them got more than enough of them crawling over their plating. The next battle will be too easy, what with Prime and his underlings getting paralyzed and falling all over the battlefield at the first shot…" the Seeker chuckles darkly, and the Decepticon leader joins him, imagining the scene.

It was a risky tactic, because they had no means to apply the Cybervenom to as many Autobots as possible without them noticing something wrong and neutralizing it before it could take effect, but, with the Seekers' distraction—

"By the way, Starscream, how did you manage to keep them still long enough for the nanites to be delivered?" he asks, genuine curiosity in his voice and expression, and the Air Commander's smirk grows smaller but sharper, telling of a secret that he isn't about to reveal, before he turns away and walks towards the door.

"Perhaps at a later time, Lord Megatron."

And, despite the bridge's being a standard sliding door, the swishing as it closes is far too ominous.

* * *

**UPDATED 27/02/2017:** Corrected Grammar.

* * *

**AN:** Apparently, the term 'one-shot' doesn't agree with me (or is it I that doesn't agree with it?).

Someone asked if Starscream would be singing _Be Prepared_ from _The Lion King_ next, and while at first I was like, "No, no way, why would Starscream be singing about becoming leader when he does that on a daily basis in normal speech?", my brain immediately cooked up a reason to have such a situation happen, as you read in the last scene. So, have another part (and there will be more, as I have some more songs in mind, but feel free to suggest others, preferably with character and song).

And about the Cybervenom: Please, correct me if I'm mistaken, but I don't remember anyone from G1 ever using/mentioning it, making _Beast Wars_ its first chronological appearance. So, I thought it plausible that it was first invented as a weapon and had to undergo various stages of development before becoming the immediate-really-painful-zap-to-unconsiousness that it is there. And who better than Starscream and Mixmaster to cook it up? So, the Decepticons have a new weapon, not yet perfected but somehow usable, and found a way to put it in action, because it wasn't fair the Autobots were spared the 'wonders' of singing Decepticons.

The parts of the song that aren't sung aren't in bold, but that doesn't mean they aren't of the song. And Starscream's 'introductory' speech is also from the song, it just didn't make it into the movie.

Whether or not Starscream and the Seekers were serious about what they sung... *evil smirk*

**Giddy:** I'm glad I made you laugh ^^ And sorry about the carpet XP


	3. You've Got a Friend in Me

**AN:** This chapter's song is _You've Got a Friend in Me_, from the movie _Toy Story_. The version used is Randy Newman and Lyle Lovett's (ending of the first _Toy Story_ movie).

* * *

As if it wasn't enough that the Decepticons attacked the day after Optimus' group found the Seekers and learned of their plan, it took just one shot to bring half the Autobots down, forcing Prowl to order a retreat after Prime was knocked offline.

And yet, the worst was still to come.

It was some sort of virus, a long living one that kept trying to degrade the infected mechs' systems, to Ratchet, Hoist and First Aid's despair.

The curious part was that there were no chances of it infecting the rest of Autobots, meaning they had most likely caught it in one specific place.

And since the ones that had caught the 'virus' were those who had witnessed the Seekers' so-called revelation, and none other…

It didn't take them any time to connect the dots.

Beachcomber's examination of the terrain proved what they all suspected.

There were traces of strange nanites, deactivated and starting to break down, all around the clearing where the Decepticons had been.

The Autobot Medics and Perceptor got to work as soon as the Minibot returned with the samples, but now, two weeks later, they haven't yet found a cure.

Ratchet's already bad mood is deteriorating fast, and more than once has he turned to ask Wheeljack for one of his weird inspiration bursts, only to see the mech as still and quiet on a berth as the rest of his patients.

None of them has gotten worse than when they first found out, that much they can do, but that doesn't mean the situation isn't getting worse.

The Decepticons make sure of that.

If the nanites they found at the trap's site weren't proof enough of their involvement, the fact that they've been raiding energy plants almost every day since then is all they needed.

And while the active mechs manage to keep them at bay in certain situations—more with cunning and traps than outright brute force, for they don't have the advantage of numbers anymore and their enemies are warmechs—they're still losing _a lot,_ and the Decepticons always manage to pilfer more energy than anyone wanted.

And there are always repairs to be done afterwards.

They can't afford the distractions, not with half their numbers out of commission and in danger of deactivation if they don't find a solution soon, but they just _keep happening!_

Ratchet stumbles, slamming into an occupied berth, as he jerks away from his path between patients just in time to avoid squishing the humans.

"Whoa, Ratchet, are you alright?"

He's not sure if it has been literally or figuratively, but the Chief Medical Officer feels something _snap._

"Alright? I have my Repair Bay full of patients infected with an unknown agent that is trying to deactivate them! I am _not_ alright! Least of all with you bunch of fleshbags getting under pede and disturbing my work!"

The loud whirling of his fans is the only sound in the room.

Sparkplug, Spike and Chip are staring up at him with pained looks on their faces, and First Aid, Hoist and Perceptor are looking at the Medic in surprise, but Ratchet just keeps snarling, optics almost white, and servos shaking at his sides in tight fists.

Without a word, the humans turn around and leave the Repair Bay.

It isn't until a couple hours later that the Chief Medical Officer realizes just _what_ he said, but he can only grimace as the realization dawns. He should apologize, but he can't leave, not until they find a cure and get the stasis-locked mechs back to activation.

Later. He'll apologize later.

Perceptor is in the lab with First Aid, and Hoist has gone to get some Energon cubes, which leaves Ratchet alone in the Repair Bay, looking after their patients, when the doors hiss open.

When he doesn't hear the pede-steps of whoever may be coming inside, the Medic looks up.

The answer to the silence, however, is _down._

The reason he hadn't heard pede-steps is that it wasn't a mech stepping inside, but a _human._

Sparkplug looks him up and down searchingly, and, not knowing how to start his apology, or even if he should, because he has patients to take care of, he has no time to stay standing in the middle of the room because an organic wants to take a look at him, Ratchet stays silent.

And then, the Witwicky looks up at his faceplate, carefully arranged into neutrality but tense with the effort to keep a snarl at his uselessness at bay, and smiles.

"**You've got a friend in me. You've got a friend in me.**"

Ratchet's optics pale and his faceplate cables relax so much that his lower jaw falls down, mouth opening in surprise, and the soft embarrassed blush on Sparkplug's cheeks vanishes as his smile widens.

"**When the road looks rough ahead and you're miles and miles from a happy end, you just remember what your old pal said: Mech, you've got a friend in me. Yeah, you've got a friend in me.**"

"What are you _doing_?!" He asks, startled, as he takes a step away from the human, who chuckles in amusement at his reaction.

"What does it look like?"

"You're _singing_."

"Exactly."

"But, why—"

"**You've got a friend in me. You've got a friend in me,**" Sparkplug cuts, ignoring the Autobot to go to one of the large monitoring screens next to Prime's berth where his vitals are shown and updated every couple kliks. "**If you got troubles, I got 'em too,**" the human adds, gesturing to the table and, still in shock, Ratchet grabs him carefully and puts him on it, earning a large smile. "**There isn't anything I couldn't do with you.**"

The Medic snorts almost involuntarily, the man chuckling in answer.

And, before he can pull his servo back, the Witwicky grabs one dactyl and stares at him with burning determination, paralyzing the mech on the spot.

"**We stick together, we will see this through. 'Cause you've got a friend in me. Yeah, you've got a friend in me.**"

Ratchet has to shake his helm softly at that, the surprise and shock finally starting to wear off.

But, as Sparkplug releases his dactyl, his determination vanishes as the human looks down at his boots with… sadness?

"**Some other folks might be a little bit smarter than I am. Bigger and stronger too.**"

_"Alright? I have my Repair Bay full of patients infected with an unknown agent that is trying to deactivate them! I am _not_ alright! Least of all with you bunch of fleshbags getting under pede and disturbing my work!"_

Fleshbags. That's what Ratchet called their allies. The same word the Decepticons use.

"**Maybe,**" the Autobot answers, startling the human this time.

And, when Sparkplug looks up, the Medic gives him a smile and an apologetic look.

The man smiles widely in answer.

"**But none of them will ever know you the way I do. It's me and you, mech,**" the organic adds, and Ratchet chuckles but brings his fist up as the human has done, letting him 'bump' it with his smaller one. "**And as the years go by… Our friendship will never die.**"

The Autobot's smile vanishes, because they both know humans'—Sparkplug's—life cycles are incredibly short when compared to a Cybertronian's, so to say that…

But the man just keeps smiling, giving the far older mech a look the Medic himself has delivered to the younger Autobots when they ask him 'how is that possible'—

"**You're gonna see, it's our destiny.**"

—and Ratchet answers with something of the like.

"**You've got a friend in me. You've got a friend in me.**"

"**Yeah, you've got a friend in me,**" Ratchet answers, and Sparkplug laughs, joyous and amused and somehow grateful.

For a moment, none of them speaks again, just staring at the other.

And then, the Medic's smile wavers and he turns away.

"Look, Sparkplug, I want to apologize. What I said before—"

"No need to," the man answers, startling the mech to the point he turns around to look at his companion again and see he's still smiling. "This situation is a mess, and you're all under a lot of pressure, so it was expected someone would blow up sooner or later. You don't have to apologize. Actually, _I_ have to, because we weren't paying attention to where we were going, and it could have ended in an accident if you hadn't noticed us."

"No, no, you don't have to…" the Medic starts, but Sparkplug is stubborn, and Ratchet is stubborn, and they both know it, so the Cybertronian cuts himself with a chuckle and a shake of his helm. "Apology accepted."

"And apology accepted too," the man answers, knowing what the Autobot is thinking, before he puts down his bag of tools and turns to Prime's still frame. "Now, how can this dumb, small and weak fleshbag help you?"

Ratchet opens his mouth to answer, something about exaggerations or the like, but stops, optics paling in realization.

"Small, _weak._"

"Ratchet?"

"That's it! Sparkplug, you figured it out!" he exclaims, rushing to get the needed tools, while the human scratches his head in confusion.

"Did what?"

"The nanites! The ones used to deliver the venom! We assumed they had deactivated after delivering their load, but what if they didn't? What if the reason none of our antidotes worked is because there was more venom being sent into the frames?" the Medic explains somewhat hastily, going back to Prime's side while fiddling with the setting of a scanner.

"That's possible? I thought you guys said they could only live until the virus was delivered."

"It doesn't work like that. If the venom has a coded component in the nanites, and they've managed to survive along the infected's color nanites… Found them!" he exclaims, white dots showing in his scan signaling the presence of nanites lacking the same code than the Prime's own. "If the venom is based on some code, and the nanites still function, more venom is produced! We assumed it couldn't be so because, as far as we knew, the venom was delivered already as a substance."

"So, you can cure them now?" Sparkplug asks, hopeful, as Ratchet puts the scanner down with a small frown.

"Once we get rid of the nanites, it will be a simple matter of trying those three compounds that seemed to work the first time, I'm sure they will be enough… And I know exactly how to get rid of the nanites," the Medic muses out loud, a smirk growing on his faceplate.

"How?"

"Bleach."

"What?"

"Nanite bleach, it deletes all coding of the nanites it comes in contact with," Ratchet answers, chuckling softly, as he contacts Hoist, Perceptor and First Aid with the orders to bring all the cans of bleach they can carry as soon as possible.

"Won't that damage the guys too?"

"No, it won't. At least, not physically."

"And that means…"

"Code-less nanites are white. Completely white. So, since we can't apply the bleach to all the venom's nanites individually…"

"You're going to turn all of them as white as snow. You're lucky Sunstreaker isn't among them!" the man returns with a snort, lips twitching with laughter kept at bay.

"Oh, don't think so. All the decorations outside of the main colors are drawn by servo, and who do you think does that?"

After a moment for his words to be deciphered, Sparkplug starts to laugh.

"Remind me to never weld your furniture to the ceiling!"

"As if you ever could."

* * *

**AN:** Idea suggested by **STARSCREAM RULEZ**; and the song is _You've Got a Friend in Me_, from _Toy Story_.

About the chapter... I'm really, really, _really_ unhappy about it. I don't like it. At all. And that's weird, because it's somehow just what I had been aiming for, but... I have the feeling there's something loose, something that I'm missing... but I don't know what, and it's driving me _crazy_. So, there, have the chapter, see if you can tell me where I've gone wrong, if at all, so that I can find some way to fix it, if needed.

That said, I've got the next chapter ready, so expect the update soon. Oh, and I may have some more ideas (the bunnies are breeding like... well, like bunnies), but feel free to keep throwing ideas my way, you people are amazing and have really good ones!

**Giddy:** Slag, I'm going to have to start writing less humorous fics at this rate XP Nah, just kidding, though this one isn't exactly rib-cracking... Oh, well, it happens *shrug* You're welcome, and yep, that's Jazz for you XD Didn't actually end with the pink salve, in part because Energon is the Cybertronian's blood and it's pink, which would lead to a somewhat gruesome scene, but I hope the 'snowmechs' were good enough substitutes XP


	4. The Plagues

Prowl is starting to go crazy.

It doesn't show, for he won't let it, but he's _exhausted_ and more than a little cranky.

Optimus and Jazz were infected, along many others, and thus their responsibilities are all his own. Minus Special Operations, Mirage is taking care of that.

The twins, fortunately, have been extremely well-behaved since their leader fell into stasis lock, as if knowing even the tiniest joke will be enough to set the Praxian off.

And _no one_ wants that.

Prowl is scary when he's angry, but downright terrifying when his control snaps.

He hasn't got to that point yet, and, with the Autobots being as cooperative as they are, at least in regards of keeping their grumbling to a minimum, there's no danger.

The Decepticons, however, only make matters worse.

He manages to keep them at bay in certain situations, more with cunning and traps than outright brute force due to the loss of numbers and the fact their enemies are mostly warmechs, but it doesn't matter if they win some battles, because Megatron and his mechs are winning the war.

They always manage to get Energon, and that is sent right to Cybertron almost as soon as they retreat from the battlefield.

Red Alert's crazy security increments are the only thing that has kept Megatron from trying to get to the _Ark_, but Prowl thinks it may also be because they're not a _real_ threat anymore.

That only serves to thin his patience further, leaving him seething in his quarters when he has no other chance than take a break to try to calm down.

And today doesn't seem like it's going to go any better.

The trap was sprung as expected, executing almost perfectly.

Almost.

The Seekers managed to spot Brawn and informed the rest of Decepticons, so, when the Autobots attacked, they were ready.

They managed to knock some out, yes, because, while they knew of their presence, they didn't know their exact positions, but they aren't damaged enough to force Megatron to call his troops back.

And now, Prowl can only jump away to avoid the shots, and growl silently as he realizes there's no way this fight could have a positive outcome for the Autobots.

About to call another retreat, the Praxian almost tenses when his comm crackles to activation before he can do so.

::Prowl, we did it! Prime and the others are up and ready, no sign of that venom anymore. Blaster said you've already engaged the Decepticons, so they're hurrying, but you need to stall to give them time to get there.::

While Ratchet's news are the best he could've wanted—except maybe the knowledge that all Decepticons had fallen to their own virus—the Doorwinger grimaces internally.

_Stall? _How_?_

He rolls out of the way on instinct, avoiding the shot from above, and when he looks up he sees none other than the smirking and clearly smug Decepticon Second in Command.

"Not running today? Guess you've finally realized you can't do anything but deactivate." The Seeker mocks, null-rays charged and once more aimed at the Grounder.

Slag control.

His sensors sharpen, his claws extend with a loud whisper of metal against metal and a soft click, and his doorwings flare with a roar of his engine that makes the Flier jerk back a bit in surprise.

_::You need to stall to give them time to get there.::_

_Oh, no. I don't need to _stall_. I need to drag that mech to the ground and rip him a new spark chamber!_

His battle computer immediately points out the flaws in his plan, how the Air Commander is larger, heavier, stronger, and, obviously, capable of flight, how he also has claws, and how a shot from his null-rays can send Prowl into stasis while his own acid pellets will only hurt the slagger unless he aims for a lethal point.

Plus, he's the leader of the Autobots until Prime gets here, while he can see Megatron from the corner of his optic.

Were he to incapacitate the Flier, he'd still have to deal with the Slagmaker _and_ the rest of Decepticons.

He can't risk it.

_Doesn't mean I can't do some harm, or _a lot_, just like he—_

And just like that, he knows what to do.

'All is fair in love and war', the humans say, along 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do'. And, even if they weren't on Earth or didn't know about those sayings, turnabout has _always_ been fair play.

So, even before a nanoklik has passed since his aggressive response, he has the next course of action planned and ready to implement.

Part one: While Starscream regains his balance, which will take 0.7 nanokliks, straighten and get rid of all emotion on his faceplate, but keep the doorwings flared, because folding them back is an indication of preparing for battle, as well wariness about the possible damage the other can inflict, and he is _not_ afraid of the Seeker.

In fact, he's more than extremely angry, and his vibrating doorwings, hitched high and spread wide, are more than enough sign of it, even to wingless Grounders.

Part two… Well, the humans also say that bottling up emotions will result in an explosion.

So, seeing how he's been bottling _this_ up for nine million years, this explosion is long overdue.

And yet, he's still Prowl.

Which means he curls his clawed dactyls into fists, pulls his lip-plates back in a snarl, optics darkened in ire, and lets his voice come out as a menacing hiss that, somehow, manages to carry to the whole of the battlefield, if the sound of shooting stopping is any indication.

"**Thus saith the Lord… Since you refuse to heed my request. All through the lands and cities, I send a pestilence and plague into your house, into your berth, into your skies, into your streets, into your fuel, into your helm, upon your fellows, on your kin, upon the workers in the fields, into your dreams, into your skin, until you break, until you yield!**" His voice grows stronger, the anger making his doorwings tremble slowly extending to the rest of his frame as Starscream's startled and confused expression morphs to a denying and disbelieving one. "**I send the swarm—**" A slashing gesture to the Flier— "**—I send the horde.**" And another to the general direction of the ground-bound Decepticons. "**Thus saith the Lord!**"

Starscream's turbines sputter and, before the Seeker can process what's happening, he's stumbling as he lands roughly, denial and something like fear in his optics as he has obviously caught up to what the Doorwinger is saying.

After all, he's using the same code, calling Megatron 'Lord', as the Flier did in the distraction for Optimus and Jazz.

And since the Lord was the one to order such calamities… Well, it is that hard to put _that_ together with the fact it's a _Praxian_ the one speaking.

"**Once I called you brother. Once I thought the chance to see you smile was all I ever wanted…**" His voice isn't as loud as before, but still easily audible and clear, and, while the Decepticon flinches back as if in pain, optics darkened yet alight with an unidentifiable mixture of emotions, Prowl knows the startled gasps aren't just from one faction.

"**We send the thunder from the sky, we send the fire raining down…**" Starscream whispers, obviously trying to put himself together but too emotional to manage it.

After hearing his soft words, however, the Praxian doesn't feel the slightest remorse about continuing his assault—and, if he does, he keeps it buried under enough anger and betrayal not to notice it.

"**And even now I wish that Prime had chose another, serving as your foe on his behalf is the last thing that I wanted…**" Apparently, he didn't hide the pain as well as the betrayal, because _those_ hadn't been the words he'd expected to throw at the Air Commander.

They work well enough, however, because the Seeker takes yet another wobbly step back, unable to look away from him and shaking as hard as the black and white mech, optics flickering as he tries to clear his processor.

"**We send a hail of burning ice on every spire, on every road…**" The Decepticon's voice sounds slightly stronger, but Prowl taking a step forward makes him shrink away from the smaller mech.

"**Praxus was home!**" And slag self-restraint, because there isn't only pain in his voice now, but also the horror, disbelief and burning raw _betrayal_ as he throws an arm out to get rid of whatever excuses the other is trying to give him while a clawed white servo presses against the middle of his bumper, feeling the strained and too quick pulsing of his own spark. "**All this pain and devastation… how it tortures me inside!**" Another step back from the Flier, and anger surges to the forefront, making him snarl and jerk his outstretched arm towards where the other Autobots are—where _Bluestreak_ is. "**All the innocent who suffer from your stubbornness and pride!**"

And Starscream's optics sharpen as he straightens with a snarl of his own, large white and red wings whirring out of their immobile position to flare and vibrate like Prowl's were, now hanging behind him in agony.

"**We send the killers on a wind that none before have ever seen, destroying towers, melting wings, until there's nothing left that lives! We send our scourge, we send our sword. Thus said the ****_Lords_****!**"

Lords. Plural. And the sharp cutting motion towards the rest of Autobots—

_The Senate._

This time it's Prowl the one to jerk back, startled and mildly horrified, but not shocked enough to be unable to answer, helm shaking slowly from side to side in a negative.

"**You who I called brother, why must you call down another blow?**"

Starscream's optics _blaze_ with hatred and disgust and wrath and, strangely, the Praxian has the feeling none of them are for him.

"**We send our scourge, we send our sword—**"

And anger fills him again, because how _dare he_—

"**Let my people go!**" He shouts, doorwings flaring again and servos clenched in tight trembling fists at his sides, unwilling and unable to let him _insult_ the Autobots—his friends, his _family_—like that.

"**Thus saith the Lords.**"

"**Thus saith the Lord.**" He rebukes, voice level but still emphasizing his point, almost white blue locking with almost white red as they try to glare the other into submission.

But when the Seeker's optics darken, it isn't acceptance in them, but steely and unbending determination.

"**You who I called brother, ****how could you have come to hate me so? Is this what you wanted?**" Starscream's arms spread wide, encompassing not only the battlefield and those in it, but the planet, the war, the situation on Cybertron and their races' bleak future, and the Doorwinger's spark stops pulsing for an instant.

Before flaring with the same ire and disgust and determination in the Flier's own optics and frame, and, just like him, he doesn't really feel like pinning the brunt of his emotions on him, but on the brand on his wings and the one who put it there.

"**You sent the swarm, you sent the horde…**"

And any silent hope that the other will _see_ is extinguished as the Seeker straightens, as unyielding as before.

"**Then let my spark be guarded, and never mind how high the cost may grow, this will still be so. I will never let your people go. Thus saith the Lords.**"

There's only one answer to that.

"**Thus saith the Lord.**"

He will never abandon his own, he will never betray their trust, he will never accept the lies of a glitched mass extinguisher, tyrant and would-be conqueror.

As one, they open their mouths, and both know what the other is going to say before they do, because they're both going to speak the same.

"**I will not—**"

"**—let—**"

"**—your—**"

"**—my—**"

"**—people go!**"

Only… they didn't.

And, even as he keeps glaring into the Seeker's optics, he feels something grow in his spark chamber.

Because Starscream hasn't asked his people, the Decepticons, not be blamed. Instead, he has promised he will _not_ forgive Prowl's, the Autobots.

But that… What does that—

A roar of engines, the sound of transformation, and they're all suddenly ducking and rolling away from the new barrage of plasma fire as Prime, Jazz and the rest of finally repaired Autobots join the paused battle.

It takes Megatron only a moment to recognize the completely white newcomers and, with a grimace of rage, he orders his mechs to retreat.

And Prowl only feels colder as their silhouettes vanish against the blue sky, half his processor listening to Optimus' congratulations and gratitude for taking care of things.

When he suggests the Praxian take a couple days to unwind and recover from the last stressful weeks, the Tactician just nods and, without a word, transforms and starts the drive to the _Ark_.

He _really_ needs some rest. He can't make sense of _anything_.

* * *

**AN:** That... didn't turn out as I expected. At all. And it seems I've managed to turn yet another somehow humorous ficlet into a dark thing. I'm starting to think I'm cursed, or something...

Song is _The Plagues_ from the movie _The Prince of Egypt_. And, for the record, I was planning on using _When You Believe_. Talk about a 180 degree turn...

**Giddy:** 'Abominable snowmechs' XD Now I am the one who is rolling on the floor laughing. Thanks for that! Oh, and thanks for the 'explanation' for last chapter, now I like it more ;) Though, you know, it _is_ canon that Ratchet is a party-loving mech, so I guess it wouldn't take that much to get him dancing... but I agree with the singing XD Primus, I can't stop laughing now...


	5. Our Town

As soon as they drop the Decepticons at the _Victory_, the Seekers take off again, too steamed up to sit still or take care of the minor tasks around their base, with the exception of Starscream, who needs to have some words with Megatron.

Not that Skywarp particularly cares right now, too busy raging in his processor about the _nerve of the Autobots, to destroy Vos and Praxus and _reprogram_ whatever Praxians they got their servos on to turn them against their frame type brothers_.

And then, when faced with the truth—because Screamer had been vague due to their choice in communication, but it had been clear nevertheless—they _still_ denied it.

Aerial stunts and quick races, however, can only help so much, meaning, after what feels like mere kliks but has actually been closer to a joor, the five Decepticon Fliers land on a cliff overlooking the ocean, the waves crashing against the rocks reflecting their still raging moods.

"I wish Megatron hadn't called us back! I have some _experiences_ I'd like to share with Prime and his Autoscum!" Ramjet growls, punching the palm of a servo with the opposite fist with an ominous clang.

"Not if I get my claws on them first." Dirge hisses, his engines fueling the rest of Vosians' ire with the Conehead's own.

"_I_ am Trine leader, if anyone is going to rip an Auto-dweeb apart before any of you it's me!" Thrust snarls, and the other two seem slightly subdued at that, but still clearly angered.

"I'd like to see you getting to them before _I_ do." Skywarp purrs menacingly, his smirk too sharp and too distorted, as he teleports next to the Conehead leader, who steps away with a warning hiss but keeping his wings locked and his helm bowing slightly in submission.

"There are more than enough of those slagheaps for each of us." The red Flier points out after a moment, and the purple and black Seeker's sneer widens at the thought.

"I call dibs on the Weapons Specialist. I'm going to rip out his voice box first, so that we don't have to strain to understand that drawl of his, and then I'll have him undertake a study about how high can a Cybertronian fall without deactivating." Dirge rumbles, eagerness and growing Energon-lust clear in his purring engines.

"Wheeljack for me. I'd like to try one of _his_ experimental weapons on himself, once in a while." Thrust adds, servos curling into fists and opening over and over again, in reflection of his impatience to get the Autobot.

"I'll get Prime. And I don't care what Megatron says, if Starscream could have the Senate, I can have Prime's spark!" Ramjet growls, daring any of the other Fliers to deny him with a glare.

"Fine by me. Personally, I'm aiming for a new record of 'how many mechs can I deactivate in a klik'." Skywarp purrs, claws unsheathed and glimmering in the red twilight light as he lifts them to his faceplate, almost feeling the Energon dripping down the metal. "How about you, TC? Any of those Autoscum we should reserve for you?"

Nothing.

Confused, and finally noticing the muted emptiness through the bond with the blue Seeker, the group turns around.

Thundercracker is standing close to the edge of the cliff, dark orange optics tinted red as they stare at the setting sun, though obviously not seeing it.

It takes Skywarp just a moment to realize he's not really staring at the star, but at some point over it, something that only he can—

The black and purple Flier stiffens when he realizes just _what_ his Trine mate is staring at.

_Cybertron._

"TC? You alright?" The blue Seeker seems to deflate the slightest bit, and, a bit worried, the Third Wing takes a couple steps closer under the watchful gazes of the Coneheads. "TC? Hey, come on, mech. Just… tell me what's wrong? You know, maybe I could help." A small shake of the silver and black helm, and Skywarp's tremulous smile vanishes. "Then… just let it out? Any way you feel like, though I'd appreciate a warning if I'm about to be punched in the faceplate."

And, finally, Thundercracker reacts a bit more visibly, letting out an almost soundless sigh as his optics go black and his helm hangs lower.

He looks… defeated.

It's not a look Skywarp has seen all that much, since his Trine mate usually keeps emotions like pain or fear or grief pretty well hidden under seriousness or anger, but he _has_ seen it some times, the spark-wrenching grief, the loss too big to comprehend but too glaringly _there_ that it is unavoidable…

And that's when Thundercracker opens his mouth.

"**Long ago, seems not so very long ago, the world was different, oh yes, it was.**" Skywarp tenses optics paling as a tiny nostalgic smile appears on the blue Seeker's faceplate. "**You trained hard and you were sent far and got to live.**" The War Academy, joors going over and over strategies and directives and rules because it took so slagging long for the younger Flier to memorize them, even after Screamer came along. "**But far as you go, it's still your town.**" The graduation, a ceremony-less event that consisted of the pre-arranged Wings to be given the data of their new stations, a pleasant flight to a nearby Defense Force outpost, the stays all around Cybertron, but they always…

They always came back. They always had it in mind. They always _knew_.

They are Seekers, and citizens of Vos.

Thundercracker onlines his optics again and looks up at his Trine mate at last, the small sad smile still on his faceplate.

"**Time goes by, time brings changes, you change, too.**" And Skywarp snorts, but it isn't mocking or even actually humorous, more like the dawning of the realization that yes, he did, didn't he? "**Nothing comes that you can't handle, so on you go.**" This time, the black and purple Flier is the one to look away.

Cocky, that was the best word to describe him after the graduation, after they joined the Defense Force, because he could teleport, so there was nothing that could harm him, and Thundercracker had already been in the Military, even if he'd been sent back to the War Academy due to an incident, and who knew just how much Starscream actually knew of _everything_, with who knows how much experience as an Energon Seeker?

There was nothing that could harm them.

But, in the end, it hadn't been the direct attack he'd been so confident he'd be able to handle alongside his Trine, what had almost ended them.

"**Never see it coming when the world caves in on you. On your town… There's nothing you can do.**"

Skywarp whimpers, because there really hadn't been anything they could do. The two of them had been out in a leisure flight, they had barely managed to get Starscream out after the attack and, hadn't it been for Megatron and the Decepticons hurrying to their allies' aid, their Trine leader would have deactivated alongside their city state.

He'd been lucky, and his memory of the events, of exactly _what_ weapons had leveled Vos, had allowed the surviving citizens, almost all of them out of the city at the time, to realize _who_ had been behind the sudden rain of fire and lightning and burning ice that had left nothing but gray metal and wreckage where once large golden spires twisted towards the stars for the winged mechs to perch upon.

"**Main street isn't main street anymore.**" And the same agony twisting Skywarp's spark is clear in his Trine mate's voice, optics once more black and tiny smile replaced by a pained grimace as he clenches his servos into almost too tight fists. "**Lights don't shine as brightly as they shone before.**" Unwilling to let his brother suffer alone, the black and purple Seeker closes the distance, barely a couple steps but seeming so much further away, and envelops a trembling fist with his own shaking servos.

Thundercracker relaxes a bit at that, the fist uncurling to grab Skywarp's servos as he looks into his Trine mate's pained gaze with the agony reflected in his own optics.

"**To tell the truth, lights don't shine at all… in our town.**" They both look up at where the sun had been, now nothing more than darkening sky left behind for the stars to conquer once more. "**Stars shine bright each cycle, just like they've always done.**" The blue Seeker sounds calmer once more, but his grip doesn't vanish or slack, even when they hear the soft rumble of engines coming closer an instant before Starscream, looking scuffed but undamaged, transforms to land close by but still far enough from both his Trine mates and the Coneheads huddling together a bit further, the serious set of his darker faceplate revealing he knows what is going on.

Thundercracker turns to observe the darkening sky between them and Cybertron once more.

"**Get up, go to work, start again. Look up at golden spires that are long gone, as the world rolls by a million miles away.**" Skywarp takes a step back, effortlessly extricating his servo from his Trine mate's, as the blue Flier turns to the strangely silent and serious Starscream with pain and a hint of anger on his silver faceplate and orange optics. "**Main street isn't main street anymore! No one seems to need us like they did before.**" The purple and black Flier flinches back as if physically struck, because now they're weapons of war, but before, when Vos was still standing and Cybertron wasn't dead, they had been protectors and nurturers, searching for the life-giving Energon to sustain their fellow Cybertronian, as well as watching out for any alien menaces. "**It's hard to find a reason not to stray.**"

Was he human, Skywarp's breath would be stuck in his throat. Since he isn't, he feels all noise from his systems stop as apprehension takes hold of his frame, and he can hear echoing silence from the Coneheads.

They all know Thundercracker isn't the most supportive of the war and fighting, it is no secret, but to actually hear the mech say it…

For the first time in millions of years, the purple and black Seeker actually fears he will lose a Trine mate.

Slowly, the blue Flier lifts a clawed servo, resting it over the purple insignia on a wing, dactyls curling, ready to slash it out—

But the servo curls into a fist instead and falls to rest at his side as he looks up at their _still_ serious—calm, patient, _supportive_—Trine leader.

"**But it's our town, love it anyway.**" And Starscream smiles as Thundercracker moves closer, curling against white and red plating and resting his black and silver helm under the smaller Flier's chin as blue forearms and servos embrace the usually unflappable blue Seeker. "**Come what may, it's our town.**"

Skywarp whimpers softly, and it takes Starscream just one look for his smile to soften even more, impossible as such may have seemed, and take one arm off Thundercracker in an offer the youngest Flier eagerly takes him up on, curling between his Trine mates while folding his wings back, engines purring alongside the other two mechs'.

A moment later, the purple and black Seeker finds himself displaced a bit, comfortably wedging himself between the other two Flier's sides as if he'd always belonged there—which he has—when the Coneheads join their 'group hug'.

They had all been so busy being angry at the Autobots that they almost forgot what matters, what's really important, and it isn't tearing a mech to pieces, but keeping their family, their extended Wing, the remnants of Vos, together.

The Autobots will pay, in due time.

But family comes first, always.

And that's something he'll never again forget.

* * *

**AN:** Song is _Our Town_ from the movie _Cars_.

And, after an angsty/dark chapter, I give you yet another angsty/dark chapter with a dose of... fluffiness? Huh, I like that. Looks like this won't turn out into another dark story after all (let's hope I haven't just jinxed it).

Oh, and, er... sorry about the wait. I'll try not to let it happen again (key word being 'try').

**VoAutobot:** Thanks a lot! I'm happy to read that ^^ As for the fic, I'm not going to a 'darker' kind of fic now, it just so happened that the growing plot demanded some darkness, but it isn't my intention to turn it darker. Nevertheless, I'll check the song out, because I may very well be able to add it somewhere, so thanks for the suggestion!

**Giddy:** Great metaphor, mind if I use it somewhere (not necessarily this fic)? As for the 'emotional spectrum' of the story, I am not planning on turning it dark, but it just so happened that the plot demanded a slightly darker chapter to progress, and who am I to deny it? XP But, nevertheless, I'll keep your advice in mind, 'cause I'm sure it'll come in handy somewhere. And yes, we need that story XD May I suggest Ratchet trying one of Sideswipe's experimental High Grade brews as the catalyst for that song? (Now I can see Ratchet running around like a headless chicken in the Rec Room, singing about the pink elephants, while the rest of Autobots stare dumbfounded... I'm laughing so hard I'm crying XD)


	6. If I Didn't Have You

The white coloring is more disturbing than Hound will ever admit, but it's infinitely better than being in stasis lock on a berth in the Repair Bay while an unknown poison corrodes his systems.

Which is basically why he won't protest the change of color scheme.

Besides, it's temporary. In a couple weeks he will have all his color nanites replaced by the right green and gray color-coded ones.

Plus, he's not the only one in this predicament.

And there's something more that makes the whole 'snowmech' ordeal better: the party.

To celebrate their recovery and turning the tables on the Decepticons, even if it's just by stopping their victorious spree.

There's no way anyone could stay annoyed, least of all angry, once they get Sideswipe's special High Grade brew in their systems, so the scout doesn't even try.

He'll be white for a couple weeks, but who cares? They're all back to top shape and, for the first time in who knows how long, the whole _Ark_ is celebrating.

Pit, _Red Alert_ is here, even if he's still nursing his first cube and installed who knows how many alarms in the security systems to alert them to even a _mouse_ sneaking in before allowing himself to be dragged to the Rec Room.

So, no way is he going to let something as menial as being colored white interfere with the good mood and the warmth buzzing through his lines as he takes another gulp of the green-flecked purple liquid in his cube.

As the humans would say, life is good.

Or, truth be told, _mostly_ good.

He doesn't have any more details than the rest of now white mechs do about what happened in the battlefield before they arrived to send the Decepticons packing, but what he does know doesn't look good.

In fact, it is so disturbing that the fact Prowl _sang_ to buy the recovered Autobots some time isn't even shocking in comparison.

… Alright, no, it _is_ shocking, because _Prowl_ and _fun_ don't go along most times, and if the Second in Command's designation is on a sentence with 'music' it usually has 'stopped the' between the two words.

Yet, that doesn't make the rest of events any less astonishing.

They all know the Decepticons destroyed Vos and Praxus, and that, thanks to being the first at the scene, they got hold of all Vosian survivors and reprogrammed them to do their bidding.

However, none of them knew what the actual reprogramming entailed.

And, according to what those at the battle witnessed, it was to make them think the _Senate_ was the one to destroy the two city states.

That's… quite shocking, truth be told.

Yes, Decepticon propaganda said so from the very beginning, and it shouldn't have been as unexpected as it actually is, but what is actually shocking is what it _means_.

Because being reprogrammed could somewhat excuse the Seekers joining the Decepticons, but such a minor thing means that they weren't actually _changed_.

To sum it up, the Vosians are acting of their own volition, if under the wrong pretense, but there's no way they will be convinced of that.

They're Decepticons through and through.

Shaking his helm to get rid of such dark thoughts, Hound focuses back on his High Grade, draining the cube in a couple of gulps.

And, of their own accord, his optics slide to the door of the Rec Room.

All Autobots are here, celebrating the recovery of their comrades. All minus one.

And, by the grimace Jazz gives him when he finds the Third in Command's gaze, he's not the only one that has no clue how to break Prowl out of his emotionless and purely tactical mindset.

Most would argue the Praxian is always like that, but Hound has worked alongside him long enough, before and after the start of the war, to know he's not, that he's simply a calm and collected mech that takes his work far too seriously at times.

But, well… he _is_ a Praxian. More than any other mech, the black and white Grounder was one of those who literally lost their whole lives when the war began.

Not only was his city state destroyed, but he was an Enforcer back then, a member of the organization that was supposed to keep their people safe, and for someone as focused on their task as Prowl, such a failure, especially so soon after Vos, Praxus' sister city state, was destroyed…

It was bad back then. With the revelation that the remaining Vosians despise the Autobots, each and every one of them regardless of frame type, the fact the Second has closed himself in his office is almost a relief.

No one wants to deal with an angry Prowl. Those who have had the dubious pleasure of experience such still bear the scars.

And yet, that's still not good, but what can Hound do?

… Refill his cube, for starters.

And maybe, once he reboots after the overcharge, an answer will have popped up, or Jazz will have worked his magic and dragged the Praxian out of his anger-filled emotionless shell.

Yes, sounds like a good plan.

"Why the mopping, Hound?" Sideswipe asks as the scout approaches the twins, handing his empty cube to the red frontliner to have it filled again.

"Just thinking about the battle. Must have been a Pit of a song to get Prowl so…" He fumbles for words, gesturing with his empty servos, and Sunstreaker snorts.

"Yeah, we get it, don't worry." The more sociable twin answers, returning his now full cube. "Ever since the beginning, that singing has been nothing but trouble. Guess we will have to count that as a weapon."

"That's because they're all using the wrong songs." The golden mech scoffs, crossing his arms against his chest plates and wobbling a little, obviously affected by the High Grade, as the rest of mechs in the room. "They don't choose the right ones and things only go to rust."

"You mean there _are_ good songs? How could there be good songs when we're fighting?" The scout asks, curious, as he leans against a table and takes a sip.

"Good songs for the good things!" Sideswipe chirps with a big smile, a gesture quickly mirrored by his twin.

"Like… this?" Hound asks, confused, while he gestures to the room filled with overcharging mechs, not a worry to be seen.

Unless one knows where and how to look, that is.

"Of course not. _Better_ things. Like… like…" This time it's the red mech the one searching for words before looking at his brother with pleading baby blue optics.

Sunstreaker snorts, leans more comfortably against the table at his back, and makes some kind of rasping sound before straightening while, somehow, still keeping his relaxed position.

"**When I was a rich mech, with a million or two.**" The scout splutters at the singing, but the golden frontliner ignores him and the rest of mechs all around when they go silent and stare at him in disbelief.

All but Sideswipe, who slings an arm around his brother's shoulders with a sharp grin and opens his mouth—

"**I lived in a penthouse, in a room with a view.**" The prankster continues, his free servo gesturing in an arc in front of the twins, symbolizing that view.

And, with a start, Hound remembers that, before the war started, Sunstreaker was a renowned artist and Sideswipe an accomplished trader, both residing in Iacon's golden Towers.

"**And though I am handsome—**"

"No way!" The red mech cuts, glaring at his smug looking twin.

"Just deal with it. **Someday you'll be too.**" The golden frontliner answers, and the other takes his arm off him to cross them against his chest plates with what can only be called a pout, only to find himself tugged against his twin's side as the older brother pulls him into a one-armed hug. "**I wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have you. Wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have… Wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have… Wouldn't have nothing…**"

Sideswipe's pout slowly vanishes under a large grin, and by the time he pulls himself out his twin's grip, he's as happy and chirpy as usual, both of them ignoring the bunch of gobsmacked mechs staring at them in surprise at the impromptu show.

"Can I tell you something?" And, not waiting for an answer, the red mech straightens pompously. "**For years you have envied—**"

"Not green, you see?" Sunstreaker cuts, gesturing to his golden paint, but the younger brother doesn't pay him any attention.

"**—My grace and my charm. Everyone loves me, you know.**" The prankster continues, nudging his twin with an elbow joint to the side of his torso.

"**Yes, I know, I know, I know.**" The golden frontliner grumbles, pouting as he glares at the floor.

"**But I must admit it, brother, you always come through.**" Sideswipe adds, throwing his arm over his twin's shoulder plates once more and almost literally hanging off him. "**I wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have you.**"

And, with a large grin on his faceplate, Sunstreaker slings his own arm around his brother, both mechs pressing close and swaying with the melody as they sing together.

"**You and me together, that's how it always should be. One without the other don't mean nothing to me… nothing to me!**"

"**Yeah, I wouldn't be nothing—**" Sideswipe begins, stepping away from his brother, who buries his faceplate behind a hand with a tired groan.

"Oh, no…"

"**—If I didn't have you to serve. I'm just a punky little prankster, and a funky frontliner.**" Hound can't help but snicker at the melodramatics, especially when the red mech presses the back of a servo against his forehelm and leans back in a 'fainting' gesture, before he straightens with a large smile once more. "Hey, I never told you this… **Sometimes I get a little blue.**"

"Not good on you." Sunstreaker answers, looking his twin up and down critically, and there are more than a couple of snorts at that.

"**But I wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have you!**" The prankster continues, arms spread wide as if he's just about to jump on the golden frontliner to hug him.

To their audiences' utter surprise, however, the older twin lets out a bark of laughter and grabs his brother's servos, twirling them both around.

"Let's dance."

Sideswipe is positively glowing, so large is his smile, and he quickly gets into step as both twins start to twirl around the room, stunned mechs slowly breaking out of their paralysis to either laugh, smile or, in the case of those who have had more than a little High Grade, join the dance, especially when Blaster manages to find a tune to go along the twins' melody.

"Look, Ratch, I'm dancing!" The red frontliner exclaims when they go past the Medic, who falls into his seat with a loud cackle while giving them a thumbs up. "Will you let me lead?" The prankster quickly adds, glaring at the smug golden mech, and the grip slackens a bit to let the younger tug them against their original rotation. "Look at that, it's two big mechs alight on their feet!" The music cuts as Blaster almost falls over in laughter, and Sunstreaker pulls them both to a stop with a glint in his optics and a too sharp smirk that has the rest of Autobots muting their engines and stilling to avoid missing anything.

A look at his twin's faceplate is all Sideswipe needs for his confusion to replaced with wariness.

"Don't you dare dip me, don't you dare dip me, don't you dare dip me—" But that's precisely what Sunstreaker does, earning a grimace from his brother. "Ow, I should've stretched."

And the whole room is thrown into loud peals of laughter and clanging as mechs fall down, the golden frontliner pulling the red one back to a standing position before slinging an arm over his shoulder plates.

"**Yes, I wouldn't be nothing, if I didn't have you.**" Sunstreaker sings once more, gaining their audience's attention again as Sideswipe's pout immediately vanishes under a blinding grin.

"I know what you mean, Sunny. Because—"

"**I wouldn't know where to go.**" The golden mech cuts, his smirk widening, but the other doesn't seem to notice, almost bouncing around.

"Me too! Because I—"

"**Wouldn't know what to do.**"

"Why do you keep singing my part?" Sideswipe pouts, finally glaring at his brother.

And then, before the other mechs can do more than snicker, both twins exchange their expressions for wide smiles as, once more, they pull each other in tight one-armed embraces and sing in unison.

"**I don't have to say it…**"

"Aw… Say it anyway." Sunstreaker encourages with a poke, and the red mechs positively beams as he straightens as much as possible without dislodging his brother.

"**'Cause we—**"

"**—Both know it's true.**" They finish together, though this time Sideswipe doesn't seem annoyed, more like _elated_. "**I wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have… I wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have… I wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have… Wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have… you.**"

"One more time!" The red frontliner shouts, looking at the rest of Autobots, and some kind of fanfare immediately erupts from where Blaster is standing, immediately accompanied by the clapping of the audience, following the rhythm as best as their slightly—or more than slightly—overcharged states allow. "It worked!"

"**I don't have to say it…**" Sunstreaker sings, taking his arm off his brother to wave it as if he was an orchestra's director.

"What are you guys waiting for?" Sideswipe calls, and Hound exchanges a large grin with Hoist, next to him, before turning to the twins.

"**'Cause we both know it's true…**" The golden frontliner continues, this time accompanied by all other Autobots in the room.

"Let's take it home, brother!" The red mech exclaims, once more hanging off his twin, who doesn't seem bothered at all despite the tiny scrapes appearing on his plating.

"**I wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have… I wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have… I wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have…**"

"You! You! You!" Sideswipe cuts, pointing at the various mechs around the room. "**A, E, I, O… That means you, yeah.**" He finishes, using both servos to point at his brother, and, as soon as Blaster cuts the music, the Red Room erupts in applauses and cheers as the twins bow together and almost fall over, obviously more than a bit overcharged, causing their audience to laugh.

Once he recovers a bit from his mirth, though still smiling widely, Hound reaches for his almost forgotten cube and looks around at his comrades, all of them seeming even more cheerful and at ease than they were before, including Red Alert, who is actually smiling, and a chuckling Prowl leaning against—

_Whoa, _what_?!_

He has to shake his helm and reboot his optics a couple of times before he realizes that no, the black and white Praxian leaning against the wall next to the door and chatting with Jazz is not a hallucination.

The saboteur quickly finds his optics and gives a wink in his reboot-one-half-of-the-visor patented way, and Hound smiles again.

And, when he deciphers just _what_ the two officers are saying, he bursts out laughing once more.

"—don't know if I should schedule some re-educating lessons or requisition their stash of High Grade to make sure they stop butchering the language."

When Sideswipe and Sunstreaker turn to look at him oddly, Hound finally lets himself fall to sit on the floor, ignoring anything that aren't his tingling systems and the hum of content and happiness spreading through his systems.

Yes, life is good.

* * *

**AN:** Song is _If I Didn't Have You_ from the movie _Monsters, Inc._

And we're back to humor! By the way, any and all OOC-ness is to be blamed on the High Grade (that's the only way I could think of to get Sunstreaker to sing, after all).

On other news, I'd say this chapter marks the end of Part I, if it can be called such. My reasoning? Part I is the introduction of singing and getting the Cybertronian used to it. Part II will be everyday, or otherwise not too uncommon, situations where singing has been added to the mix. And Part III... well, that would be spoilers ;P

So, feel free to suggest songs _**AND**_ characters/situations for those songs. What does that mean? Don't ask something like "I'd like to see _Song 1_ or _Song 2_", 'cause I won't know what to do with them. Rather, please, if you're going to ask for a song, let me know of a character that could sing it or a situation where it may be used, something like "I'd like to see _Character 1_ singing _Song 1_" or "I think _Song 1_ would be perfect during [a battle, a meeting, etc.]".

And, last but not least, I'm getting a job, starting about two weeks from now, so, while I'll still write, I can make no promises I'll be able to keep updating weekly. Sorry about that, but, you know: **it's the ciiiircle of liiiife**...

**Guest:** Thanks for the suggestions, but, as I said in the paragraph above, I'm going to need something else to work with them. What did you have in mind?

**Giddy:** Why thank you ^^ And yes, he did need that hug. Good thing the rest don't mind giving them when there are no other Decepticons around. I'm glad you like the 'group traits'. I put a lot of thought on the frame types and their characteristics and how that would affect them and other frame types, so I'm really happy to know the readers don't mind/like those too (unless I misunderstood what you meant...?). Also, yes, they are like a little family ^^

As to the "Pink Elephants" thing: As I was reading it, I found myself smiling widely, but that last line... Needless to say, I think the woman sitting next to me in the bus must have thought I was nuts when I broke down laughing XD It was totally worth it ^^


	7. When Will My Life Begin

Obviously, the Autobots didn't like the Decepticons' surprise in the form of the Cybervenom-charged nanites, because they have been giving them Pit ever since they recovered from it.

They aren't exactly angry, which is something weird, but this glee and eagerness about literally kicking the Decepticons off the battlefield is even worse.

Fortunately, the over-abundance of Energon of the previous weeks has given Shockwave enough to work with for a while longer, even if he'll have to moderate its use somewhat, and, since they have their own Energon synthesizers all around the _Victory_, they don't have to worry about rationing.

However, that doesn't mean they _don't_ need the energy. It just isn't that urgent now.

But it will be.

And Megatron isn't happy with the switch in the battle results, nor their dropping success rate of energy collection.

Which means he's starting to drive his mechs, especially the officers, ragged and more than a bit crazy.

It really doesn't help that, this time, the battle ended with yet another loss, practically no Energon cubes, and a lot of mud liberally splattered all over the Decepticons.

And the racks broke sometime before they began the assault, meaning, since the _Victory_ wasn't built with as many commodities as a real spaceship due to time and materials, they have no way to clean themselves until they are repaired.

Something that, with four of six Constructicons out of the way and a lot of damage to fix, won't happen anytime soon.

So, Starscream curses and grumbles under his breath as he sits in the cluttered Repair Bay, trying to ignore the other mechs and Mixmaster and Scavenger rushing around, concentrating only on the wrench in his servos and the twisted ankle joint he's trying to realign without breaking anything.

Slagging Megatron and his slagging habit of blaming Starscream for his slagging failures…

Sure, the joint had been damaged during the battle, but if the Seeker hadn't been forced to avoid the punch from his _mighty_ leader—no matter that he'd brought that on himself by calling the fool an idiot to his faceplate—it wouldn't have popped out of place!

The door swishes open and, almost without thought, Starscream looks up.

He can't help the snarl on his faceplate when he sees Viewfinder looking around, immediately approaching the Seeker when their optics meet.

"What does our _glorious_ leader need now? A processor to think for his faulty one, or a punching bag _again_?" The Grounder has the decency to fidget and shrink a bit at the Flier's cutting tone, chuckling almost nervously, so Starscream decides to cut him some slack and turn his glare to a boring look.

"Actually, none of those. He said he wants to see you when you're repaired to plan the next strike."

"He has _another_ half-afted plan _already_?" He can't help the incredulity in his voice and the way he straightens on his chair—because the berths are all occupied, it has been _that_ bad this time.

Viewfinder shakes his helm, letting out an annoying huff.

"Who knows? I mean, yes, he does have ideas, he had _that_ look on his faceplate, but he doesn't have a plan. That's why he sent me to give you the message and fetch Soundwave. By the time you're repaired, Soundwave should have put something together to go along with Lord Megatron's ideas."

Starscream lets out a bark of laughter at that, startling the Decepticons around them, but they immediately go back to their own businesses, knowing better than to get involved with any of his schemes.

Even if he isn't scheming anything this time.

"Good luck with _that_. Soundwave is in stasis somewhere around there." He tells the Reflector member, and Viewfinder immediately groans in defeat, shoulders slumping.

"Just what I needed, _more_ work. Lord Megatron _really_ needs to take a break or something before there are no Decepticons left outside the Repair Bay."

"Then this is the perfect time to overthrow that fool! When _I_ am—"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't make Lord Megatron wait too long" The purple mech cuts, receiving an annoyed glare from the Seeker before walking away.

"Idiot. When I am leader of the Decepticons, forget about getting any vacation." The Flier grumbles with a scowl before turning his attention once more to his ankle joint.

But, of course, a bad day will always get worse.

Which means that, as soon as Starscream has managed to realign his joint without too much pain and with no apparent damage, a _sonic wave_, of all things, cuts through the Repair Bay, assaulting his sensors and audials and making him jerk with a surprised yelp while the wrench is still around his ankle joint, thus making it pop out _again_ with far more pain than before.

He whirls around with a loud curse and optics blazing, trying to find out just _what_ has happened _this time_ and who needs their servos forcefully removed until they learn how to use them.

It takes a moment to find the origin, however, because mechs are rushing out of the Repair Bay as if the Unmaker himself had appeared in it.

The instant Starscream sees the reason for that, he tries to do so too, but his misaligned ankle joint makes sure he ends up sprawled on the floor with a grunt and a loud clang instead.

Fortunately the thundering pede-steps of the stragglers rushing out cover the sound of his fall, helping him stay unnoticed as he drags himself under a berth from where to, hopefully, observe safely.

It doesn't take a genius to realize just _what_ has finally snapped Soundwave's patience to the point the Communications Officer is literally shaking in rage in the middle of the room, visor practically white and a low and painful high-pitched whine filling the bay as, ironically, his anger steams.

Well, maybe it would, but Starscream has the information of what, _exactly_, did that, so it takes him no more than a glance to put two and two together.

For starters, there's a grayish patch on the side of the Cassette Carrier's helm, signifying a strong hit during battle that has had the dent already repaired, but, from personal experience, the Seeker knows the horrendous processor-ache that comes along with it is harder to get rid of.

Second, the Grounder is more brown than blue, not even the usually bright, although spare, hints of red seen through the dirt that covers almost every micron of his plating, which must be itching to the point of glitching, and, as an officer, Soundwave knows the wash-racks are unusable right now.

And, to top it all, Viewfinder was running from his direction, so he must already know about Megatron's summons.

Obviously, he's _not_ happy about that.

That doesn't mean the reaction is expected, because if there's any mech able to keep a tighter grip on their emotions than Soundwave, Starscream has yet to meet them, because even Shockwave, with no faceplate to speak of, is easier to read once you know him.

So, all taken into account, it looks like this situation is, to borrow a human expression, the straw that broke the camel's back.

Only, it will break more than a measly organic's fragile calcium-based bones, because Soundwave isn't weak by any means, and his sonic capabilities have even Thundercracker, who is modified to deal with such things, wary of the Grounder.

Meaning, no one would berate Starscream for pulling his field so close that it seems he has none, and for silently pushing further away into the darkness under the berth.

Especially because the Communications Officer is missing his facemask, probably a side-effect of having his helm repaired, and thus his spark-extinguishing snarl is visible.

_Note to self: Do _not_ anger Soundwave. _Ever_._

The high-pitched whine grows louder, stronger, to the point Starscream's audials are starting to _burn_—

And cuts so suddenly that the Seeker fears his sensors have glitched.

The sound of the Cassette Carrier's stomping pede-steps immediately denies that Energon-freezing thought.

That, and something he never thought he'd hear again.

The voice of the dark blue mech, unmodified by the modulator in his facemask or by that self-imposed restrictive pattern.

It takes but a sliver of a nanoklik to get over the shock of the voice and fall into that of the _words_.

"**All since the crash, the usual daily routine: Start of the shift, have to check all data is clear; read and organize and stay glued to the screen… Check again, and by then, it has been just five kliks!**"

Starscream almost feels like sneering at that, because, _come on_, not even _Soundwave_ can be _that_ efficient.

_Can he?_

"**And so I'll revise old files or audio clips or vids, I'll hack in military nets and leave no trace, I'll add a few updated files to the main base, and wonder is there a life for me?**"

Any kind of resent or disbelief or even that tiny hint of jealousy vanish at the tinge of despair of those words.

Suddenly, Starscream _knows_.

Belonging.

It has always been about belonging.

And, right now, they do belong… in the Decepticons. In the command. At Megatron's side.

But once the war is over, when they _win_…

Starscream will lead the Energon Seekers, he knows that.

But what of Soundwave, who has only known blind loyalty and a drone-like life at the beck and call of the tyrannical Senate?

Silently—old habits die hard, and, in danger, better not to be noticed—the Seeker gets out of his refuge and stands up as much as his damaged ankle allows.

"Soundwave?" Almost faster than his optics can follow, the dark blue mech whirls around, too pale visor locking on him and, instinctively, he pulls his servos up, empty palms facing the Grounder and claws sheathed to show he is not a threat. "Whoa, easy! Just checking everything's alright and… don't keep it in." He finishes in a whisper, servos lowering and faceplate carefully blank yet expressive, the echo of that longing and pain and lack of belonging as clear in Soundwave as it is in the Flier's frame.

The dark blue mech is still tense, but his visor slowly turns red and his frame starts to shake, too many conflicting emotions battling under his plating.

Until, with another high-pitched hissing sound, the Cassette Carrier turns around and resumes pacing and gesturing wildly.

"**Then after that it's cleaning the room and fueling; check on the twins, make sure they're not up to pranks; do some spying, and if there's a raid, go fighting. And get chuck. In the muck. And someone. ****_Broke the racks!_**"

The Seeker winces at how high-pitched that last sentence gets, his audials ringing at the sound, and has to wonder for half a spare nanoklik if this is how others feel when he starts screeching.

The other half of that nanoklik is filled by a silent whistle at the realization of just how much does the mud itch.

After all, as a Flier, he didn't get to be as dirtied as the ground troops.

"**And I'll recheck the files if I have time to spare. I'll search for secure grids, I'm sure there's more somewhere. And then I'll stare and stare, and stare at empty air, stuck in the same place I've always been… And I'll keep wondering and wondering, and wondering, and wondering—Is there a life for me?**" The condescending and clearly disgusted tone of the beginning quickly turns to that same longing, that same lack of belonging of before, but far more intense, far more _yearning_, to the point Starscream's spark pulses painfully, hurting for the mech that is now where the Air Commander once was.

Where they may all be, if the future doesn't unfold as they plan.

And when has anything happened as they have planned?

Soundwave knows it too, because the tension induced by his rage and pain vanishes like mist under the sun, leaving the Cassette Carrier slumped in a now empty berth, servos cradling his helm and a small sad smile on his faceplate.

"**Don't get me wrong, I like my work here. It's just that there's nothing else for me, I fear.**" And he looks up, and the sadness in that smile is no longer there, instead replaced by a hope that is more spark-wrenching than the previous emotion could ever be. "**What is it like to have something more?**" Voice box unable to function any longer, Starscream takes a step closer instead. "**Perhaps I'll find something when we're done with this war.**"

One more wobbly step, and, even before the echo of the Communications Officer's voice vanishes, the Flier sits down next to him.

After that, it's silence.

Judging by the fact Megatron isn't yet here, Starscream has the feeling their glorious leader hasn't been told of the impromptu 'clearing' of the Repair Bay.

And, likely, he won't.

So, they have more than enough time to just sit in silence.

Only, unlikely as such a thing seems—though the unlikely seems to happen far too often today—Soundwave breaks that quiet.

"Do you think…"

"I think many things, but I don't know of any mech that can foresee the future." He answers just as quietly, and the Cassette Carrier's bowed helm leans forward even further. "However, if there is one thing I know, it is that there is nothing you set out to do that you can't accomplish."

A startled look from the Grounder, and the Seeker returns it with a rueful half-smirk.

"Are you… serious?"

"Have you ever known me not to be?"

Soundwave snorts, another small smile on his faceplate again, but this time it isn't sad or hopeful, but amused instead.

Starscream counts it as a victory, his smile turning more genuine before sharpening.

"Besides, if you still are at a loss of what to do, I'm sure you can always begin your own radio program. It isn't as if anyone will recognize the anonymous singer."

The dark blue mech laughs, though he quickly recomposes himself, one servo absentmindedly scratching a mud-splattered elbow joint.

This time, the silence is lighter, warmer, almost comfortable.

Starscream has never been one for silence.

"You help me with my ankle joint, I help you clean up." He gets a curious look at that, but, when he waves a servo, claws still sheathed, Soundwave's visor lights up as a gleeful smile appears on his faceplate.

And yet another victory for the Air Commander, because it's obvious the Communications Officer knows more about Seekers and Fliers than any common Grounder should.

Which means there's a reason three out of six of his Cassettes are Fliers.

Who the creator was, however, is something that pertains only to them.

And that is more than good enough for Starscream, curiosity finally sated.

"Deal." Soundwave answers, extending a servo to accept the wrench still in the Seeker's grip.

Gladly, Starscream gives it to him, unsheathing his claws to start carefully scratching the mud out of even the smallest seams.

Megatron can wait.

* * *

**AN:** Song is _When Will My Life Begin_ from the movie _Tangled_.

This turned out cuter than I thought... and angstier. Or is it _less_ angsty? Huh...

Some everyday scenes now, with whatever comes up, and they're slowly leading down the plot, building on each other until we get to... well, spoilers XP Anyway, you'll see what I mean somewhere down the road, _far_ down the road.

Suggestions are always welcome, and I mean _really_ welcome, I'm running out of ideas for this 'building' chapters, and there are a lot of movies/songs out there, so... help?

Also, I have a question: Would you like me to specify the song/movie at the beginning of the chaper instead of in this at the end author note?

**VoAutobot:** Glad to read that, and thanks to you ^^ As for your suggestion, I'm restricting myself to adapting songs from movies, specifically those that are sung by the characters, so... does _We Will Rock You_ appear in such a setting? 'Cause that suggestion does sound awfully funny XD

**Giddy:** Should I put the song at the beginning then? And I absolutely loved that you picked up on Sunny being so much like Sides when he's not worried about being his cranky self XD They _are_ twins, after all, so I wanted to show that they're not as different as they may seem at first sight. Oh, and there _will_ be videos, of course... *grins evilly* I leave it to you to image what happened when _they_ found out XD I'm sure Prowl will repay them by 'not seeing' anything worth punishing when Sunny catches up with whoever decided to make the video public ;)

I'm really happy to see I got things right, and... is that a reference to my own fic? O.o ... XD Thanks for the new bout of laughter!

**Guest:** This fic is restricted to G1, because it developed a plot, but those suggestions are nice... Do you think there could be a way to adapt them to this fic? Or maybe I could do a one-shot... when I have time XP


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